


Slowly Claiming the Devil

by whopooh



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Chloe appreciates Lucifer, Emotional Sex, F/M, I wanted them to be on the same page for once, Lucifer is fascinated by his detective, Lucifer is up for anything, Lucifer returns, Post Season 4, Top Chloe, caring Chloe, female desire, impossible teases, soft smut, the devil needs a shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: After seven months without even a message, Chloe finds Lucifer standing on her doorstep. She isn't going to let go of him again.This is a story about Chloe claiming her Devil when he finally comes home. Tension, emotional smut, and two people who just can’t stop teasing each other.





	Slowly Claiming the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second Lucifer fic, and my first Deckerstar. If you happen to recognise my handle it’s probably because I’m usually an enthusiastic commenter on other people’s fic. I have been a bit afraid of the difficulties in capturing their voices, but I really needed some close and emotional smut between them. So, this happened. Hope you enjoy!

Chloe looks at Lucifer over the tumbler of whisky she is sipping from. He is wearing one of his purple shirts, having divested himself of his black jacket earlier. The darkness of the outfit makes his pale face stand out, enhancing those brown eyes that regard her intensely. 

He is here. He isn’t going anywhere. 

They are sitting in the couch in his penthouse, ending a delicious take-away meal with a nightcap. When he raises his glass to his lips his eyes don’t waver from hers for a second. She doesn’t think she has ever seen anyone drink alcohol as sensually as he does.

To be fair, there are many things she doesn’t think anyone else does as sensually.

He is the devil, after all.

 

***

 

He’d come back to her, two days ago, after seven long months of agony. Seven months of feeling the acute lack of him. Of sometimes breaking down when she met the tribe. Of putting most of her mind into work and pretending she was fine, really. Of solving crimes – yes, she was good at it also without the devil by her side, but she so badly wanted him there. Of deflecting Trixie’s questions about when Lucifer would come back. Of cursing Heaven and Hell and the God above. Seven months where things somehow fell into place. She finally managed to see her life as a coherent story where “loving the actual devil” simply fit as a natural part, even if the story had an excruciatingly sad ending. 

And now, after seven months without a sign of life, without even a message, he was back.

There had been a knock on the door. She was home alone; Maze, who had moved back to the apartment months ago, was out working, and Trixie was spending the week with Dan. Chloe had just been doing the dishes and left them in the sink to go open the door. 

Lucifer had just been standing there, frozen to the spot, dressed in one of his suits with a red handkerchief stuck in the front pocket _because of course he was_ , his eyes uncertain as he regarded her. It took her several moments before she could gasp out a choked “Lucifer?” And another heartbeat before he replied, “Hello, Detective.” Just as he always did. Her eyes watered.

Only then did she realise what he looked like. His suit that was not only wrinkled, but torn and messy. His hair stood on all ends. And was that soot that discoloured his cheeks and shirt? Perhaps some blood too?

“Lucifer,” she said again, barely more than a whisper. 

“Straight outta hell,” he replied, tilting his head slightly.

There was silence again. He must have decided to come immediately to her, not wanting to wait a second longer. He didn’t have his normal bouncy energy, looking rather drained as he regarded her cautiously, obviously waiting for her to give away some sign of what she felt about him being back.

“May I come in?” he finally opted for, a tentative smile grazing his lips and one eyebrow raised suggestively. “Or am I disturbing something?” 

Her urge to roll her eyes at his feeble joke made her finally break free from her stupor.

“Oh! Of course, Lucifer. Of course. Come in.”

She took a step to the side to let him in, closing the door behind him. He stopped and turned towards her, simply looking at her with that uncertain expression, his dark eyes obviously asking her a question. How often had she thought she had seen him in a crowd, just to be disappointed when she came closer and saw it was a stranger! How often had she daydreamed that he would show up on her doorstep or even at the precinct, sauntering in as if nothing had changed! And now he was here, in front of her.

She buried her face in his chest as she embraced him, closing her eyes. After a second, she could feel him catching up and slowly putting his arms around her, gently hugging her to him.

“You’re back. You’re back,” was all she managed to whisper into his chest as she hugged him harder, as if she could make it real by naming it. “You’re back. You’re okay. You’re actually here.” 

He just inhaled the scent of her and held her close. She did the same, fiercely swallowing down the lump in her throat. It wouldn’t do to break down now. She would not allow herself to be overcome. She was the unflappable Detective Decker, after all. What she needed was to act – to set things in motion and find an even keel from which she could function, so she didn’t stay here and cling to him forever. 

When she finally drew back, she eyed him, a smile on her lips.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Lucifer, but you do smell rather… pungent,” she said, wrinkling her nose exaggeratedly.

He let out a surprised chuckle.

“Is that my warm welcome home, Detective?”

Her heart clenched at the way he proclaimed this as his home – whether he meant Earth, LA, or possibly her was equally good, really. But she kept her smile teasing, jutting out her chin as she eyed him.

“I assure you my shower is warm enough.”

She took his hand and headed off to the stairs; he had no choice but to follow her. She dug into her closet to retrieve the necessities and then shoved him into her bathroom, armed with a pile of towels and her fluffy, red bathrobe. She smiled at the sight of him standing there, looking like he wanted to protest the summarily treatment.

“See you on the other side, Lucifer.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me, Detective?” he asked, obviously finding his bearing and cocking a suggestive eyebrow. She could hear his heart wasn’t really in it, so she just tilted her head in a mock reprimand and closed the door behind him.

He took his time showering – Chloe had early on realised how much he cared about his appearances, but this was on a different level. Washing away the grime of hell, she supposed. Her heart made a somersault in her chest as she tried to grasp the fact that he was here, he was safe, alive, in one piece, and he had come back to her. Tinkering in the kitchen, she heard him finally shut off the shower and then the door to the bathroom opening. He hummed slightly to himself as he came down the stairs, hair still wet and looking better in that fluffy bathrobe than she had ever done herself, damn the man. She had arranged a meal from the contents of her fridge, topped with a glass of red wine. He looked speculatively at the single plate and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not joining?”

“I had just cleared the table when you knocked,” she answered. “But you must be starving.”

He sat down in front the plate, eyes caressing the forms and colours of the food laid out before him.

“I don’t really need to eat, you know. Celestial metabolism and all that,” he said, casting a glance at her to see her reaction. “But yes, I am starving.” 

He sighed happily after the first bite, closing his eyes for a moment, and she resisted the urge to break the spell and ask him about everything at once. How had he been? How was hell? How could he even _be_ here? But that was a conversation for later; now she just wanted to enjoy that he was. 

She watched him eat, the small sounds of delight doing things to her insides. His eyes flicked to meet hers from time to time, before again settling on the food. His hair fell into his eyes, making her so badly want to stroke it away. But she stayed where she was, sitting on the other side of the table from him, simply allowing herself to watch him.

When finished, he rose to bring the empty plate to the sink, and when he turned around, she had placed herself so close he walked into her. 

“Detective?” he said, slightly startled. 

Chloe didn’t reply, she just put her hands on both his cheeks, gazing into his eyes for a moment that seemed to stand still. Her heart beat hard in her chest, and she wondered briefly if his did too. They swayed towards each other, pulled by a force far stronger than they were. He lowered his head towards hers, and as soon as he was within reach, she crashed her lips onto his. 

She had waited for this, dreamed of this – there was no way she could wait any longer. He answered her fierceness in equal measure, the kiss escalating into desperation, into a jumble of lips and tongues and teeth. A rather undignified groan escaped her. Encouraged, Lucifer picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her swiftly up the stairs and into her bedroom, his hands supporting her buttocks as she wrapped her legs around his waist, not pausing the fervent kiss for even a second. 

When he tried to drop her on the bed, she refused to let go, pulling him down with her in an inelegant tangle of limbs.

His hands were all over her, and she started to push the robe off him – when suddenly a thought struck her, and she drew back.

“Will you have to leave again?” she asked. “Is this just a visit?”

He regarded her for a heartbeat before shaking his head.

“Wild demons couldn’t make me stay away.” He paused a second, contemplating. “Not that they didn’t try.” 

She gave a small smile before diving into the kiss again, pulling him on top of her. 

There was nothing gentle in the way they made love that night – it was desperate and messy, as they both reminded the other about being alive, and being in the same place, and never letting go of each other ever again.

 

***

 

That was two days ago. 

Now, Chloe is watching Lucifer over the rim of her whisky glass, feeling a tingle of anticipation in her guts. She hasn’t seen him since, as he has been busy arranging his earthly life and his club after all the months away. Patrick had done an excellent job, he said, keeping everything afloat. Chloe’s days had gone by in a kind of haze as she kept up work while trying to grasp what Lucifer’s return would mean. She was sure Ella had picked up on her distractedness, but she hadn’t asked any questions.

Chloe sips her whisky, half turned towards Lucifer in the couch, and imagines what he sees as he gazes towards her. For today’s dinner, she had chosen a blue dress she knows compliments her eyes rather spectacularly. Her hair hangs freely, and she even curled the strands a little for a softer appearance. Finally, her look is finished up with painted eyes and one of her rare uses of lipstick. It does wonders for her confidence, and she thought she could need that.

“What are you thinking, Detective?” Lucifer asks, resting the tumbler on his thigh.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually here. That you’re going to be here.”

“But you do want me to?” he asks, his face a little guarded, and Chloe bristles inside. How can he even doubt that? What in the way she behaves could ever make him question it?

She moves to sit right next to him, turning her body towards him. It had been so easy to kiss him, so easy to become lovers. After months of missing him, after the shock of seeing him stand there in front of her door, taking him to bed had been the easiest thing. 

Too easy, she realises, in Lucifer’s world. He isn’t used to being accepted, and he doesn’t trust she won’t change her mind when the first surprise of his homecoming subsides. He knows she loves him; he _must_ know that. She had told him as much, on his balcony before he left. But he also knows that love isn’t always enough.

She squints to look at him better, noticing the nervous energy radiating from him, the tense lines of his body, even as he sits there reclined with his arm laid over the back of the couch. It is such an odd combination – he has his usual self-assurance, but he is still so uncertain about everything when it comes to her.

She reaches out her hand to his cheek, encouraging him to meet her eyes.

“You know your mojo doesn’t affect me, Lucifer. There is nothing artificial about this. When I want you, it’s all because of _you_. Because I know you.”

That statement really shouldn’t be able to affect the devil as much as it does – _he is a powerful celestial being for crying out loud_ – but his eyes still widen as he looks at her.

“How can that be so hard for you to believe?” she says, sliding herself into his lap so she can straddle him.

“Force of habit, I suppose.” He sports a self-deprecating smile as he pretends to take an interest in the whisky glass in his hand. She can practically see him grasp for an inappropriate joke to diffuse the tension, but she decides she won’t allow it. She takes his glass to discard it on the sideboard and bends over him, her lips hovering just inches away from his, letting her gaze flick between his eyes.

“Silly devil,” she says, and kisses him.

He humpfs a protest into her mouth, but when she parts her lips, he nonetheless dives into the kiss. When she withdraws, eyes slightly unfocused, he replies,

“There is nothing silly about the King of Hell.” He looks slightly put out. 

“There is plenty of silly about him, and you know it,” she smiles. “Do you really need me to list all the incriminating evidence? It would probably take all night.” 

He scoffs, and then he laughs, gazing at her with curious eyes. “We can’t have that. It’s a far too boring prospective. Almost like paperwork.”

Chloe smiles at him before deciding to go for another kind of attack. She reaches out to undo the buttons of his shirt, freeing his torso from the purple cloth. His perfect skin is almost radiant in the dusky lighting.

“Beautiful devil,” she says as she leans down to kiss his chest. She licks his skin, just above one of his nipples, before she decides to go all in and bites him.

“Ouch!” he protests, but she can feel his tension abating, his body relaxing in response to her teasing.

“Delicious devil,” she continues, smiling, before nibbling his skin again, then moving to lick his nipple. “Delicious, irresistible devil.”

Lucifer stays still, seemingly not wanting to interrupt the curious mood his Detective is in, giving her room to do whatever it is she is doing. Claiming him, she suddenly realises – that is it. She is claiming the devil.

“Will you let me see them? Your eyes?” she whispers.

“What?” he replies warily.

“Just do it. For me. Please?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he lets his eyes alight with the bright red light of hell fire. She continues to look straight into them, smiling at him, and she sees his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. She leans forward, kissing him softly on his lips, the tip of his nose, his eyelids. When he opens his eyes again, they are his usual brown, an inquiring expression in them.

“Fierce devil,” she states as she sits back to look at him. “Fierce, and with the most inviting lips I have ever seen.” As she leans forward to again claim his mouth, his lips turn into a rather smug smile beneath her. 

“Really?”

“Of course,” she says into the kiss. Her lips are on him, her hands framing his cheeks, and even as he has let her take command, he is the one devouring her. Finally, he stops keeping still, his hands snaking around her waist and then down to her ass, slowly kneading her buttocks and pushing her closer to him.

She gasps for air when she extricates herself from the kiss.

“Clever devil,” she pants. “Clever and resourceful. Amusing.”

He strokes her back languidly.

“I’m not sure I ever heard anyone sing the devil’s praise like this,” he says, amused.

“Oh yes, singing. ‘Singing voice like an angel’ devil,” she adds. She looks at him, his open shirt framing his chest, and decides it is time to lose the garment. She pushes at it by his arms, and he complies by raising his torso so she can slip it off him and throw it to the side.

“Honourable devil,” she says, teasing, as he sits bare-chested beneath her.

“Defamation!” he exclaims, smiling. Chloe puts a finger over his lips.

“Oh hush. Honourable, like I said. Protective. Caring.”

She strokes her hand over his chest, caressing his warm, pale skin, trailing her hand up and down before it comes to rest over his trousers, making a detour over the growing bulge in them.

“Horny devil,” she adds.

“And who’s to blame here,” he huffs, but she only smiles sweetly. 

“Not-horny in some unexpected ways, I admit, but definitely horny.” She squeezes him through the fabric, and he hisses in response. She opens his trousers to free his cock, which is easy enough. Once again, it seems he has foregone underwear.

“Going commando devil,” she chuckles, rolling her eyes even as she caresses the length of him, a combination that seems to make him shudder. She has long suspected he gets a kick out of her rolling her eyes at him – why else would he put so much effort into achieving it? She feels she has gotten the final proof of that. 

Then she turns serious, looking him in the eyes while circling the tip of him, exploring the little slit at the top and earning herself a moan. “But even more, I would say, a loving devil.”

He just looks at her, his dark eyes unreadable. She strokes his length a few times more and then abandons it to place her hand on his cheek, letting her thumb graze his cheekbones and then his lips.

“But most of all,” she concludes, her voice wavering a little, “my devil.”

His gaze doesn’t falter as they sit silent for several heartbeats. Then, he captures her thumb in his mouth, biting is teasingly. After releasing it, he moves instantly, surging forward to claim her mouth with his, hands on her back keeping her close as he devours her, eliciting moans from them both. His lips turn hard and demanding before again softening. 

“I am,” he finally says, moving away again. “Yours, I mean.”

“I know,” she says, smiling teasingly, but the evident wetness in her eyes probably gives her away.

“How about moving to the bedroom, Detective?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh no, I’m quite comfortable here,” she replies. 

She rises from his lap, gesturing for him not to move.

“Lucifer stay. Good devil,” she adds for good measure. 

He stays, an amused grin on his lips. She undresses quickly, hesitating only for a moment before losing her underwear. Then she lets her eyes trail over him. 

He is a sight: cheeks flushed, hair messy, lips slightly tinged with red from her lipstick. His eyes follow her movements and linger on her naked body. There is something in his pose that reminds her of a large cat: still, but ready to pounce at any moment. He reclines against the back of the couch, trousers still open like she left them and his reddened, alert cock rising proudly from them. 

Her heart clenches from his beauty, made even more pronounced with all those small imperfections and quirks of the moment. Standing before him, she hesitates a moment and then decides his trousers need to go. 

“Ass up,” she says bluntly as she kneels before him, signalling he should raise his bum.

“Why, Detective,” he says, “I thought you’d never ask.” His eyes sparkle with joy, but he complies with her wishes. The trousers slide easily off, and she wonders if he especially favours models that are easy to remove. She wouldn’t put it past him. 

Looking up at his naked splendour, she decides there are good reasons to keep kneeling for a little longer. Lucifer seems to have taken her command to be still to heart and lets her do with him what she pleases, regarding her curiously. She leans forward so she can kiss the tip of his length, one hand caressing his hip. Then she takes him in her mouth, letting her tongue circle the tip; he rewards her with a gasp. A moan escapes her too as she lets her mouth enclose him thoroughly, enjoying the rise and fall over his hardness. One of his hands comes up into her hair but without putting any pressure, just caressing her strands while humming softly. 

She releases him with a last kiss to the head and then climbs up into his lap again. He is looking at her with such tenderness it almost makes her tear up. Then he presses her to him so he can kiss her again, exploring her mouth and their joint taste. She escapes his mouth and sits back, positioning him at her entrance to slowly take him in. 

This is nothing like the frantic movements of their first time. This is slow and deliberate. She wants to savour every sensation as he stretches her, concentrating on the movements as she rises and sinks onto him, delighting in him. Lucifer’s hands settle on her waist, helping to find the rhythm, before he lets one of them stray up to her breast, kneading it. She gasps and then smiles at him – thoroughly dishevelled, devouring her with his eyes but letting her decide on the action. She has never felt so unselfconscious while having sex; she feels free and strong and uninhibited. 

He moves a little to change the angle, and she cries out from the sensation. He raises his eyebrow, assessing her, and then he bends forward to take her breast in his mouth, licking and sucking it, before moving on to the other breast. She has the feeling he is trying her out, almost like she is a new musical instrument, and he wants to know the way she functions. For some reason, that doesn’t feel like a bad thing at all. She caresses his back and is stunned to find it as smooth as his chest. She expected that ragged texture of his scars, but there is nothing. Of course, she reminds herself, he has gotten his wings back. Did that make the scars simply disappear? It seems he will never stop astonish her.

“Your scars,” she whispers. “They're gone. Is it because of the wings?”

“I’ll show you next time,” he breathes, abandoning nuzzling her skin to instead look at her. “There are so many things I want to do with you, Chloe.” 

The simple statement makes her gut melt in anticipation.

He reclines again, reaching with his hand to the wetness where they are joined, before he finds his way to her nub. She cries out as he puts pressure on it, panting his name. He responds with a delighted smile. She puts her hand on his chest and decides to change position slightly; his surprised gasp makes her feel rather victorious. She can feel the heat pool in her belly, rising inside her, demanding to be allowed to explode any minute. 

“Yes,” she breathes, “yes, yes! Like that, yes.” 

Her simple exclamations make him increase his ministrations; he finds the leverage to thrust up into her, and she finally tips over the edge. She continues to ride him throughout her orgasm, not caring what sounds she emits, then watching him as he furrows his brow and opens his mouth in concentration. His grasp of her waist and buttocks becomes stronger until she can feel him shudder, releasing into her.

She slows down and comes to a stop, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them to watch him. She doesn’t think she has ever seen him so relaxed, as he lies there, oblivious of her scrutiny. The tension to his jaw is a minimum compared to his usual vigilance, his face is relaxed, eyes closed in bliss. It makes him look younger, content – almost innocent. Her heart swells with love for this impossible man, and she reaches out to caress his face. 

“It does feel different,” he finally whispers, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to it. “With you. Like being in a forest and not knowing which way is north.” He pauses for a moment, looking confused. “But I _always_ know where north is.” 

She lets his now softened member slip out, feeling his release slowly trickle out of her and probably form a pool on his stomach, but she is too relaxed to give it any real thought. She lays down on top of him, resting her head on his chest.

His breathing slows down, she can feel it beneath her cheek, and he lets out a sigh while slowly caressing her back with his knuckles. 

“I still can’t believe I get to have the devil in my bed,” she says, kissing his shoulder. 

“Are you quite alright, Detective? Did screwing the devil affect your human brain?” Lucifer retorts. “This is neither a bed nor is it yours.” 

She huffs, rising on her elbow just to make sure he properly sees when she rolls her eyes at him.

“I can’t believe I get to have the devil on his couch, then,” she says. “Better?”

He gives her an appraising look.

“And exactly how is that a stranger phenomenon than me having the Detective there?”

He says the title, _the Detective_ , as if it is just as singular and well-known as “the devil” – like he always has. And for him, she guesses, that is actually the case. 

“The Devil and The Detective?” she asks with a grin.

“I believe the preferred saying is ‘good cop, handsome devil cop,’” he replies, his answering grin just as broad as hers. 

She huffs again but decides not to fight it. Instead she just rises over him, her hair falling around them as she kisses his tempting lips again. 

That is the only response she can think of. She has her handsome devil exactly where she wants him, and he is going to stay. All the silliness he will certainly throw her way? She will just have to handle it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to TheWillowBends for beta reading, you are the kindest!


End file.
